We Must Always Walk Alone
by schaefy
Summary: Steph married Joe and they moved to Vegas to escape the Burg. But things keep going horribly wrong for Steph and her young daughter, and their lives are in danger. Can they escape in time? A lot of Morelli Bashing!
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Hi everybody, this is a new story I've been thinking about for some time (A couple of months if you _must_ know…) just never had time to write. What is it with that happening now??? Anyway I really like it and it's a songfic to "Conversations with my Thirteen Year old Self" by Pink. I really like this song (well her whole album, its really good) and this is the story idea that struck me when I listened to the lyrics. It's another angsty one. As usual. But I hope you enjoy it – please read and review coz you love me! … And you want the next chapter out tolerably soon. Lol. Have fun!

Schaefy

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**We Must Always Walk Alone**

_Chapter 1_

The sound of breaking glass filled the room as the words left my mouth. The glittering shards and the amber liquid that had held seconds before were sliding down the wall, flung there in a brief loss of control.

I gasped slightly, pushing my gaze down to the floor. This was the third time in as many days. And I knew what would follow. Sure enough, heavy, drunken breathing permeated the air close to me, the strong stench of spirits heavy as he lumbered forward. His hand gripped my chin heard enough to feel my jaw crack slightly as my face was wrenched upwards, to meet his. The dark brown eyes I had once found so handsome were full of violent, uncontrollable rage burning wildly inside them, beyond reason and calming. He was unshaven and his long hair was flying everywhere, lank and matted from weeks of sweat and alcohol.

His face was menacing, on the brink of bursting its boundaries, allowing the sheer anger to course through him like fire in his veins. His words dripped with barely contained temper, threat lacing his every syllable as he forced my face toward his.

"You dare. You dare to tell me what to do in my own house! You dare to take my drink and say I had enough! It is not for you to decide what I do _ever!_ I am the master of this house! It's your job to serve me. To cook my dinner and pour me drinks. To raise that bitch of a child and come to bed when I'm ready. Never, ever assume you can do any more than that! _Do you understand me?_"

His voice had risen to a shout which carried throughout the whole house. Up to poor Jenna's room. She would hear the whole thing.

"Joe," I said weakly, pain shooting through my jaw as blood filled my mouth. I leaned heavily against the wall, the blood spilling out of my mouth as I tried to speak. "Please—"

His face turned murderous. I never saw his fist as it collided with the side of my face, or the boot that smashed into my ribs over and over again. Blows rained over my body as I curled up in an effort to protect myself. By the time the last blow struck blood was running from a deep gash the length of my face and my ribs were beginning to flower with colourful bruises stretching over my stomach, chest and back. A strong hand grabbed my shirt and single handedly hauled me upright, limp, until my feet were six inches above the ground.

"Don't ever challenge me. Don't even try. Because you're worthless. To everyone. _You're fucking useless!_" The cold words penetrated the fog that was filling my brain.

Then I felt myself being flung bodily against the wall, my head colliding against it with a loud crack. I screamed horribly as the rest of my body hit the wall, my head bursting with the pain. I slid down it slowly and fell limp to the floor as I vaguely heard the front door slamming, my breath coming in shallow gasps as my body cried out with discomfort. Thank God. He was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey everyone,

I'm glad you liked the first chapter! To the anonymous reviewers – leave me a non-anonymous review and I will reply to your questions – it's kind of hard if I have no idea how to get back to you! Otherwise, thanks for the reviews and here is the promised second chapter, Enjoy!

Schaefy

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I woke up to feel someone dabbing at my face with something wet, making it sting and ache even more. My eyes fluttered a little as I tried to push myself up. A small hand on my shoulder immediately forced me back down.

"Stop mum, you'll only hurt yourself more. I think there may be a couple of broken ribs this time, I have to make sure they don't puncture the skin."

The words seemed hazy and far away, my head dizzy and unconsciousness threatening to take over again. I fought to keep it at bay; fought to see the figure I knew was beside me, fought to stay with her, to reassure her.

"You've lost a lot of blood from the head wound but it didn't harm your temple much so there's not possible brain or artery damage. Just let me patch it up and check your ribs, then you can sit up." Jenna said.

I sighed a small sigh and lay there, her gentle, experienced hands traversing my body for more possible injuries. My thirteen year old daughter was doing this. Just like she had every time Joe beat me up. As she had since taught herself to do from the internet at the age of nine. This wasn't how it was meant to be for her. This shouldn't happen.

Unbidden, images came to my mind of another tall, muscular figure who had forced this to happen to me and my mother, as it now happened to Jenna and me. I remembered the dark nights of huddling under the blankets with Valerie as we listened to my mothers screaming. To her pleas and cries of pain as he hit her. And then his soft, dangerous voice calling up the stairs for us. We would cling to each other still harder as heavy footsteps climbed the stairs, and my mothers' cries turned to pleas for our safety.

But then he would find us. And he would hit us. And he would break us. He would break us into a thousand tiny pieces inside. For reasons we did not understand.

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A minute or two later I felt Jenna's hands gently pulling my up to the couch, her soft words of encouragement and kindness all that seemed to keep me from losing consciousness again. I just lay where she had left me, my body throbbing angrily against the injuries Morelli had left me with. I heard Jenna poking around the kitchen for the Joe-kit as we called it – a small hidden box of suture needles and thread, bandages, patches, surgical tape, antiseptic cream, tweezers for glass or metal shrapnel and bruise cream. Our defence against Joe's injuries. Jenna came back as I finally opened my eyes fully. She was dabbing numbing cream around the gash to my face and carefully stitching the lips of the wound together as I had taught her to on a piece of fabric.

I was barely conscious from the pain that still made it through the anaesthetic in the cream, and from the rest of my bruised body. I felt Jenna's tiny hand tie a knot in the thread and lay the kit aside. Then she softly stroked my hair back from my face as she sat beside me in the darkening room, ready to watch me through the night in case something went wrong. As she had done countless times before.

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I don't know – I don't think I wrote this one very well… leave a message if you have ideas to improve it. I have already written the next chapter but I think I'll add a bit more to it (I finished the book I was writing in; otherwise I would have continued it). So I'll keep going a bit later.

Review. You know you want to.

Schaefy


	3. Chapter 3

_One Week Later_

I set the last plate down on the table for dinner, and glanced quickly at my watch. Five o clock. Joe would be due back from his bar night at about seven. Plenty of time to finish the dinner. I walked back through to the kitchen, and saw the roast still sitting on the bench. Crap, I had to put it in the oven or it wouldn't cook in time. Joe gets very angry when dinner isn't waiting when he gets home. I shivered as I thought of the last time I had made that mistake. It had not been pretty.

I stared out of the window for a second to the skyline of the large city, the sounds of the cars and people faintly discernable in the distance. Joe and I had moved from Trenton to Vegas nearly fourteen years ago now – the year of our wedding. I had finally agreed to marry him one winter night, getting sick of my mothers pestering and Joe's constant hinting, I'd had to choose between marriage and being alone again. Ranger had pretty much kept to himself for some months beforehand and I was running out of reasons not to marry Joe – apart from the fact that I really didn't want to. So we had gotten married and moved far away, supposedly to get away from our nagging families, as well as the rest of the Burg. But I knew that wasn't true. It was to force Ranger even further away from me, to alleviate Joe's fears that I would be tempted to go back to him. I had obediently gone with Joe to Vegas, leaving behind my life, my friends, my job and everything I had ever known. I had gotten a job as a secretary to a medical supplies company and fallen pregnant two moths after moving here. Jenna was born later that year and for a few short years we were happy, everything a Burg family should be. But then Morelli started getting annoyed that I wasn't falling pregnant again. He began drinking heavily after work, waking up still under the influence. He would sleep longer and be late for work, forgetting to shave and being generally foul tempered. Then one night he found the birth control pills I had been taking in my drawer. I had been reasoning with myself that the child we would have had should not have to deal with Joe's drinking and rages. He had been drinking heavily again and his temper, unbalanced as it was, tipped over the edge. That was the first time it happened. Jenna was six years old.

So here we were, Jenna and I alone in the big city, no friends or help available, struggling to survive together.

I sighed and pain throbbed in my chest and I gasped slightly, gently feeling my ribs. I couldn't lift the roast without Jenna; I ran the risk of damaging my ribs further. I called quietly up the stairs.

"Jenna?"

No answer. That was odd. We made it a rule always to answer immediately in case either of us needed emergency medical help. It had prevented serious injury more than once. For Jenna not to answer must mean something was very wrong.

"Jenna?" I called louder this time. Still no answer.

My heart started beating faster as adrenalin raced through my bloodstream. Something was wrong. I limped up the stairs as fast as I could and crossed the hall to Jenna's room. Then I pushed the door open… and froze.

She was kneeling forlornly in the middle of the floor, facing the door. Watching the blood stream silently onto her clothes from a four inch cut along her arm. A pair of bloody scissors were clutched point down in her other hand. I swear I felt my heart stop. This had happened before. But never this badly. The cuts had never been this deep. They had never bled so much.

Her fist was clenched as she glanced up at me. Her face was completely calm, her eyes simply expressionless as they stared straight into mine, showing neither the pain nor anguish she was feeling. I walked quietly into the wound and sat down beside her, just calmly looking into her eyes. It was important for her to know that I was only there to help her, so she wouldn't hurt herself anymore. The blood trickling from her arm had soaked the front of her shirt and jeans, smeared over both hands and arms. She looked up at me again, silently, her large blue eyes quietly asking me to help her. Gently, I reached across and took the scissors from her and laid them out of reach. I breathed an internal sigh of relief as she seemed to relax a little, and reached for the Joe-kit lying open next to her. I took her bloody arm from her lap, wiping it clean with a towel, then putting in a few stitches in it, to hold the lips of the wound together. Then I taped and bandaged one of the medical patches over the cut. She just watched quietly while I worked. A quiet internal depression reached her eyes as I finished and sat back next to her. Then a tear fell gently down her cheek, carrying the weight of her pain as it slowly fell down her cheek.

Then she was suddenly hugging me, sobbing, her face buried in my neck as she clutched me close. I sighed, closing my eyes and holding her tight to me, shielding her from the great weight of responsibility for a moment. She was only a kid. Caught up in events she couldn't control.

_Conversations with my thirteen year old self_

_Conversations with my thirteen year old self_

_You're angry_

_I know this_

_The world couldn't care less_

_You're lonely_

_I feel this_

_And you wish you were the best_

_No teachers_

_Or guidance_

_And you always walk alone_

_You're crying_

_At night when_

_No one else is home_

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Angry tears were rolling down her cheeks as she pulled back from me, hissing slightly as the blood began seeping through the bandage. She stood up, head in her hands, kicking the bloodstained scissors out of the way as she began pacing the length of the room, her eyes hard and her young face full of a rage which far surpassed her years.

"Do you want to talk about it now?" I said quietly. I knew would tell me in her own time, but I really needed to stop this before she put her life in danger. She just paced silently up and down the room, the flow of tears replaced by the innocent anger of a teenage girl. My heart tore as I watched her struggle with herself and her complex feelings, with issues she should not know of and dilemmas she shouldn't be facing.

These were feelings she shouldn't even be experiencing – she was thirteen years old for God's sake. I sighed sadly. It was my fault. My fault. My fault she was feeling these things. If I could have protected her from Joe maybe she wouldn't feel the need to abuse herself. This was my baby, my child. She was not supposed to hurt like this, it was not supposed to be this bad. My heart was crying out with her suffering, but my eyes stayed dry. She needed me now. Finally Jenna flopped down next to me, her head relaxing onto my shoulder.

"Why is it like this?"

Her blue eyes were dull and lifeless as she looked up at me. I sighed sadly. I had hoped this conversation could wait a few more years, but I suppose it was not to be. A silent tear rolled down Jenna's cheek as she clamped down on the sobs threatening to wrack her body.

"Why mum? Why does he do this? Why… Why. He doesn't have to hurt either of us. He doesn't have to cut you so bad you need stitches or hit you hard enough to put you in hospital. He doesn't. If he really loved us… if he really loved you… he wouldn't do this. He just wouldn't."

She looked up at me, lost in the desolation and destruction that was her life. This was my baby.

_Come over here and let me hold your hand and hug you darling_

_I promise you it won't always feel this bad_

_There are so many things I want to say to you_

_You're the girl I used to be_

_You little heartbroken thirteen year old me_

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Hey everyone –

I'm glad you guys liked the story – coz I had nothing else to do I decided to type up this just for you! This is about one and a half chapters; the next bit should be out on the weekend probably. I'm looking forward to reading your comments!

Schaefy


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note:

Author's Note:

Hey everybody, thanks heaps to everyone who's read, reviewed, alerted, faved and PMed me about this story—It's been so great! Sorry it took a while for this chapter to come up, I wasn't quite sure how to write it for a while and then one night I was looking through my childhood Storybook and one of the stories struck me as perfect to start this chapter. So I started writing it as soon as I found it—a couple of days ago. Anyway, the story I took the extract from is called "How Tom Beat Captain Najork And His Hired Sportsmen" by Russell Hoban, and it came from "The Hutchinson Treasury of Children's Literature" which is the storybook I loved as a child. (I still love it—if you can get a copy I highly recommend it?!) Anyway, enjoy this chapter and for those of you who read it, there should be an update this weekend of _Without A Trace_ this weekend too—I've already started the next chapter.

Thanks,

Schaefy

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_Stephanie_

_Six Years Old_

I was sitting at the living room table with one of grandma's cookies in my hand, with Grandma reading a story to me. This one was one of my favourites—it was called "How Tom Beat Captain Najork and His Hired Sportsmen". Grandma was my favourite person to be read to by because she let me choose which story I wanted instead of just reading "Thumbelina" or "Snow White" again... I was so sick of them. I mean, why didn't Snow White just go up to her Stepmother and ask her what on earth her problem was? Tom was so much cooler. Plus, grandma did all the right voices of the characters instead of giving them all the same voices. She was just stating the story when Mum came in.

"Tom lived with his Maiden aunt Miss Fidget—"

"Stephanie Michelle Plum what are you doing?" Mum yelled. I immediately stopped chewing my cookie and looked confusedly at her.

"What's wrong?" I asked through a mouthful. I didn't understand why Mummy was always angry with me so often over small stuff- like the time Eddie taught me to wrestle at the park. Mum had yelled at me for half an hour over that time, but had to stop when Dad came home. I mean, there was only a little bit of mud on my shirt. And one tear. Ok two, but that was all!

"You've got crumbs all over the floor and you'll ruin your dinner!" She sighed agonisingly. "Why can't you be more like your sister for once? Go and get that chocolate off your face _now_." I looked over at Valerie, quietly reading 'The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe' at the other end of the table, studiously ignoring everyone. I furrowed my small brow as Mum started wiping my face and hands roughly with a tissue. Why would I want to be like Val? She didn't run around or play tag or wrestle or anything. She sad on the sidelines watching or talking with friends or reading like Miss Prissy. She had no fun. But I couldn't be like her anyway; I couldn't read chapter books yet. Mum was muttering about my 'wild ways' and walking back to the kitchen so I ran after her, telling grandma to wait there.

"But Mummy, I can't be like Val, I can't read chapter books yet?"

She sighed as if she were exhausted and closed her eyes for a second or two, leaning her head against the pantry door.

"I meant why can't you be a little quieter sometimes, a little ladylike and more subdued."

I furrowed my brow in thought for a moment.

"Mum… what's subdued?"

She just sighed resignedly as if I was being bad and handed me some plates.

"Go and set the table Stephanie, and try not to break anything!" she said sharply.

I took the plates with trembling hands and bent my face away from her, hiding my tears as I walked back to Grandma Mazur still sitting at the table, frowning sadly. Grandma put down the book and hoisted me up onto her knee as soon as she saw my face. I felt the plates being lifted away and then Grandma's hand on my curls, gently stroking my hair as I snuggled into her.

"What's wrong baby girl?" She asked as she gently brushed away a tear that had just fallen onto my cheek, and I sniffled, hugging Grandma tightly. Hot tears fell thick and fast onto my face, the loneliness and hurt coursing through my heart. I couldn't speak for a second, hurt from my mothers cold treatment. After a few minutes I sniffed and wiped away the tears.

"Why doesn't Mummy like me?" I said in a small voice, so only Grandma could hear me. I started sobbing into Grandma's chest then, all the confusion and hurt poking me hard in the tummy. I didn't notice Grandma sighing as she hugged me tighter, rubbing my back.

"Mummy is a bit worried over some things at the moment honey, so she's a bit touchy ok? She loves you lots and lots, but she doesn't know how to have fun does she sweetie? Not like us! Who cares about a few crumbs or a spoilt dinner once in a while? Not us!"

She started tickling mercilessly then and I laughed lots and lots. I forgotted about Mummy and picked up the book from the table again.

"Come on Grandma, let's read about how Tom beat Captain Narjork and his hired sportsmen!" I settled down on her lap again as she started the story again.

"Tom lived with his maiden aunt, Miss Fidget Wonkham-Strong. She wore and iron hat, and took no nonsense from anyone. Where she walked, the flowers drooped, and when she sang the trees all shivered.

"Tom liked to fool around. He fooled around with sticks and stones and crumpled paper, with mewses and passages and dustbins, with bent nails and broken glass and holes in fences.

He fooled around with mud—"

Mummy stomped into the room carrying more plates and dinner stuff, slamming them loudly onto the table.

"You shouldn't read her those make-believe rubbish stories mother, you'll only given her ideas. God knows she's always running all over the neighbourhood jumping off things and getting herself filthy, it's enough trouble as it is."

My face fell again as Mum snapped at Grandma, tears welling in my eyes. Grandma hugged me tight again and spoke over my head to Mummy.

"Oh for God's sake Ellen the poor girl has done nothing wrong! She has an imagination that's all which you obviously lack! You can't keep scolding her like this when she's perfectly normal. Just because she's not Valerie or you at her age doesn't mean there's something wrong with her! Just leave her be and let her have a childhood!"

There was silence. I heard Valerie quietly get up and leave, her book tucked tightly under her arm. I was a bit scared; I had never heard Grandma so angry to anyone, least of all at my mother. She rocked me gently against her, shielding me from the hurt. My mother just stared at Grandma's angry face for a moment or two, shocked. Then she seemed to regain her senses, turned around and walked back to the kitchen, her face angrier than I had ever seen it.

"There now Stephie dear, please don't cry." Grandma cooed softly into my ear. I sniffed a big sniff and rubbed my eyes with my grubby hands. I didn't want Grandma to start crying too.

"There's a good girl Stephie," as I wiped the tears away. "So you want to finish the story now?"

I did my best to smile and nodded, settling down into Grandma's arms once more.

Ten minutes later I was giggling like anything as Tom beat Captain Najork and his hired sportsmen.

"Maybe that'll teach you not to fool around with a boy who knows how to fool around!" Grandma said in her squeaky 'Tom' voice, and she closed the book, tickling me again so I laughed so hard my tummy hurt.

I giggled so hard I didn't hear the car pull up the driveway, or the heavy crunch of footsteps treading on the gravel outside.

Suddenly, Grandma's hands stopped their tickling and the laughter died in my throat. I looked up to her face to see what was wrong. She had frozen, her face pal and scared, tension lining her eyes. She looked a lot like Mummy when Dad came home. Sometimes Daddy gotst angry and he hits Mummy so hard she cries. And sometimes he calls Val and me and he hitst us too. He makes Val cry, but I won't cry over him. Grandma always say's don't cry for someone who wouldn't cry for you. And I'm _pretty_ sure Daddy wouldn't cry for me.

"I have to go Stephie dear" said Grandma, quickly lifting me off her, grabbing her bag and coat before hurriedly kissing me goodbye.

"You be a good girl for Mummy and don't get in Daddy's way ok? Love you Stephie darling, take care!" And she quickly disappeared out to the kitchen to leave through the back door. I stood in the now empty living room, clutching my storybook to my chest. I had had my storybook since I was a really little Baby Grandma said, and now I could read on my own a bit I read it to myself when I had nightmares. I had them most nights, lots about Daddy hitting Mummy, Val and me; sometimes really scary ones when I was all alone in a dark room and I was really scareded and I couldn't stop crying. There was no way to get out and I was frightened Daddy was going to come hit me again, and Mummy wasn't going to be there to protect me. I'd wake up alone in my bed, tears pouring down my cheeks, holding tight to Teddy. I'd sit there for a second, scared to death Daddy would hear my soft sobbing and come and get angry. Then I'd turn on the light to scare away the nightmares and read my stories.

Suddenly the door slammed closed in the hallway and I jumped, almost dropping my storybook. Daddy was home! I had to escape quickly—Daddy was always angry when he gotted home, so I had to make sure I didn't annoy him until he'd had a few glasses of that browny drink Mummy kept locked under the kitchen sink. The he calmed down a bit and we had dinner, and he had another brown drink.

I heard Daddy throwing things in the hallway and some nasty words as a loud crash sounded through the house. Then heavy footsteps down the hall, coming straight towards me. I had to move! Otherwise he'd hit me, and that would make Mummy cry. I hated it when Mummy cried, especially when our neighbour which Mummy went to school with, Frank, came over. She'd cry and cry and even when he hugged her for ages and ages she still wouldn't stop.

I tucked my book under my arm and tried to climb over the table and jump off. But I slipped as I jumped and I landed hard on my arm. I heard a loud _"crack"_, and my arm was hurting real bad, even badder then the time Tommy Pogonowski pushed me over on the pavement at school. I gotted up quickly, grabbing my book from the floor as I turned to face him. My arm was bent funny now and hurt so bad I wanted to cry. But I didn't. I didn't want him to see me cry.

I turned around slowly, frightened of his violence, my arm hanging useless by my side, chin stuck out in defiance as his shadowy figure appeared at the other end of the room.

"What are you doing here girl?" he asked in his booming voice, as he came into the room. I shuffled my feet and stared at my shoelaces, trying to think of a good excuse.

"Nuffing sir, I just—"

"Did you make that mess?!" His eyes were suddenly full of a violent rage, anger boiling inside him as he saw the broken vase on top of the table, water dripping everywhere and trampled flowers all over the floor. I guess I knocked it over as I runned across the table. I hugged my storybook closer to me, looking slightly warily up at him. His eyes saw the confirmation and the line of his mouth tightened furiously. In three quick strides he was in front of me, cowering in the middle of the room. Then _"whack!"_. He had slapped me so hard across my cheek I falled to the floor, landing on my arm again. Pain now burned like fire in my face and arm as I lay there, face down, eyes closed, my head ringing so hard from the blow I couldn't push myself upright again. I tasted blood in my mouth and felt something dripping from my arm. I started feeling faint, the pain in my arm redoubling as I struggled to sit up, fighting to stay conscious. I ran my hand over my broken arm and felt something hard sticking out of it. The bone had punctured the skin and was exposed, splintered and bloody. My head was all fuzzy still, and I couldn't see for a minute or two, tears threatening to spill down my cheeks as my arm and head pounded with agony. I heard him step closer to me from where he had hit me. I looked up at him, my hand clutching my broken arm which was spattering blood everywhere, and just stared into his eyes with a fierce defiance. Looking past the anger and the alcohol to the weak man beneath. I was not afraid of him. I would never be afraid of him. Never.

My mother came running into the living room as I just glared at him stonily, a fierce anger coursing through me.

"_**Steve!**_ _What did you do?!_" she yelled as she saw the blood seeping quickly from my arm, and the bruise flowering on my cheekbone.

Daddy ignored her. He walked over to my storybook, lying next to me on the floor. I reached for it with my good hand, wanting to protect it. But he snatched it by the cover and threw it violently against the wall.

Tears really did fall from my eyes this time, as I watched my fairytales being ripped apart and thrown away. The delicate book falling in a heap on the floor, forlorn and broken.

Suddenly I had passed angry. I was furious. Daddy had just destroyed my most prized possession. Slowly, I met his eyes. And glared.

The book lay, rent in two halves, torn and useless.

Just like my childhood. Torn away at that moment, all innocence gone. I no longer believed in heroes or villains, or good and evil. I believed in the best, and the worst of men. Of what they made of themselves.

I had seen the worst of him. My Father.

I hated him. Steve Markowski.

I hated him with all my six year old heart.

From that day on.

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Hope you liked it, longer than usual, I'm not sure if I got it quite right—Tell me if you have any suggestions of improvement.

As always, Review. Just do it.

Cheers,

Schaefy


	5. Chapter 5

Stephanie

_Stephanie_

I had just finished stirring the gravy on the small stove when I heard the front door slam in the hall, and heavy thudding footsteps in the hallway. A familiar thrill of fear coursed through me, making my hands shake so much I nearly dropped the spoon I was holding. He was home. This was how it had been ever since I was a child, the dread of what would happen every night, of when he would come home and the terror would really begin. The violence, the yelling, the abuse and the beatings. Night after night, week after week, month after month, year after year. They were what I feared then, at six years old. And now, decades on, the nightmares had returned to haunt me.

I put the spoon down and sank into the kitchen chair next to me, one hand absently massaging my pounding head while the other gently probed my tender ribs. Suddenly the desperation overwhelmed me and the torrent of feelings spilled over into my exhausted heart. When had it gotten this bad? At what point in time had I let this happen, when had I known what was going to happen but let it happen anyway? When had I given up the fight for my survival and now my daughters as well? When had I stopped rebelling against the woman I knew I was destined to be? A housewife, Burg style. Just what my mother had always wanted. Morelli's don't change in one generation; they can't escape the genes of the family. Joe was still the mean drunk his father and grandfather had been before him and I knew it. The difference was Joe had fooled everyone into thinking he wasn't. Including me.

A loud thump echoed down the hall as Joe stumbled drunkenly around, trying to navigate his way through the semi-darkness past the lines of shoes, umbrellas and coats hanging against the wall. I sighed again, exhaustion and fatigue lining my eyes as I struggled to my feet again, the room swaying slightly as I stood up. I had to get the rest of dinner ready and on the table by the time Joe made it to the kitchen. A dry, ironic laugh filled my throat. That would give me about ten minutes.

The pain in my head throbbed angrily again and I swayed more violently, my mind spinning dizzyingly as I felt my mind seemingly detach slightly. Nausea pushed up my throat like cotton wool as I fought to stay upright and conscious, my head spinning faster than ever as I cried out slightly.

I felt a small hand grip my arm and gently push me back into my chair. I felt myself collapse into it, light headed and sick with pain from my head and ribs. I forced my head between my legs as my ribs protested in pain and took deep, calming breaths as my head began to right itself and the nausea receded slightly. That had been a close one.

"Don't stand up too fast Mum otherwise your blood pressure will drop too quickly and you'll get dizzy like that. It will pass in a minute or two. Just relax and sit down, I'll get dinner ok?"

I smiled encouragingly and nodded my assent. God, I don't know what I would do without her. But hopefully this would be the last of these torturous meals. Tomorrow was the day. The day we were going to escape. Jenna set about handing me food to put on the table—the gravy jug, potroast and a bowl of mixed vegetables. Then water and glasses for everyone.

There was another smaller _thump_ from the hall, and Joe staggered into view, leaning heavily against the wall in an attempt to remain standing. I almost sighed. It was the most pathetic thing I had ever seen in a grown man – my husband – unable to walk in a straight line he was so drunk. I stopped myself at the last second though, turning my sigh into a small yawn. I knew better than to sigh at Joe. Things quickly deteriorated when I sighed at Joe.

He finally made it to the table, heaving himself up onto his chair. His head drooped as he stared at me through bleary, bloodshot eyes; a slightly vacant look over his once handsome features. He picked up his knife and fork slowly, his brain obviously sluggish from the alcohol he had consumed. Jenna had sat down next to me and we sat for a moment in awkward silence. This was the tricky part. Sometimes Joe wanted to pile his own plate and sometimes he wanted me to do it for him. But sometimes he couldn't decide and would get angry no matter what I did. Only problem was he never indicated which he wanted for that particular night. Essentially, everything ended in anger and yelling and tears.

Unconsciously, I braced myself for the blow, my muscles tensing and eyes beginning to squint slightly ready to flick shut the moment he hand got near me. One of Joe's huge hands dropped his fork and rubbed his stubbled cheek and one bleary, red rimmed eye. Suddenly he stopped, looking with his other eye from my tense face to Jenna's look of slight apprehension.

Pause.

"What?"

Jesus, I nearly rolled my eyes. Well at least he was calm for the moment, although that could change in the blink of an eye.

I lived with a ticking time bomb.

0 0 0

So the evening continued for a time, a carefully balanced tightrope walk, each step warily tested and balanced. Trying not to provoke Joe's wrath. But it was far from over.

I stacked the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and opened the fridge to reveal a large layered chocolate cake. I took a deep breath and lifted it out, my face grimacing at the stabbing pains in my ribs. It took all I had not to faint with the pain but I held on, taking a few deep breaths to calm my spinning head as I set the cake on the table. This was the last time we would be together as a "family". Jenna and I just needed to get through this without any more anger or injury and then we could escape. We could leave and not come back. Forever.

I placed two small slices of cake on two separate plates and a larger third on another, before carefully picking them all up and proceeding to the living room. The TV was blaring in one corner, some game show with a money-flashing host and a star-struck guest filling the screen. Joe was slouched on an old, worn second hand recliner, a full glass of scotch in one hand and a pissed expression on his face. Jenna was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, pretending everything was fine. The gentle click of beads echoed softly through the room as she threaded them together to make a bracelet.

_You're laughing_

_But you're hiding_

_God I know that trick too well_

_You forget_

_That I've been you_

_And now I'm just the shell_

_I promise_

_I love you and_

_Everything will work out fine_

_Don't try to_

_Grow up yet_

_Oh just give it some time_

I handed them both a slice of cake, rather tentatively to Joe, and sat down in front of the TV. The screen flickered to a platinum blond woman in a very revealing dress who was leaning against a brand new car—the grand prize for the game show. Joe snorted as she smiled plastically at the generically handsome man who had just joined her, and lead him into what seemed to be the set of a very expensive, perfect living room. He was always very touchy that we didn't have a lot of money, and often grew angry when he saw people richer than us, blaming everyone but himself for our lack of funds. Now, looking at the living room on the TV, he was getting pissed. The furniture in the room was a perfect glowing white leather, standing on a spotless red carpet, a large Plasma LCD screen covering the back wall along with a few bookshelves holding some books which looked as though their spines had never been cracked. Joe snorted again derisively at the perfect scene, and took a swig from the scotch glass, his face still twisted as if the world had screwed him out of his bar money.

I let out a very small sigh and poked my cake with my fork. Not even birthday cake could fix my problems. Dinner had gone relatively well so far for a bar night—Joe had only yelled twice and threatened me once. Usually he was yelling every other minute, and more than once had reduced a much younger Jenna to tears. I had thought maybe we could get through at least dessert without more yelling.

By the murderous look Joe was giving the couple on the screen though, it was not o be. I sighed again, my cake now reduced to the point of being a pile of crumbs. Joe bristled again and downed the rest of his scotch in one, standing up to get another. I looked up at him sadly, watching him sway dangerously as he stumbled towards the bottle cabinet.

Suddenly his unsteady legs gave way and he tumbled to the floor, the shattering of glass cracking the silence like a gunshot. Joe's glass had smashed onto the bottle cabinet as he had been reaching for the scotch bottle standing on the edge. It had been knocked off its' place and had broken all over the floor.

Joe' face twisted in rage, blood and glass trickling down his arms where they had been cut.

Oh shit.

His face contorted and he let out a bestial cry, his insane eyes staring at me through the alcohol induced rage.

Double shit.

"You Bitch!" he screamed, lunging at me, his hands deftly reaching for my neck. I saw Jenna plastered against the wall, terror on her face as she watched the struggle.

"Run!" I yelled at her as Joe's finger's found my throat and began to squeeze. I felt the desperation mounting inside me a he closed my windpipe and I fought to draw breath, his strong hands crushing my lifeline. She stayed pressed against the wall as she watched her father strangling her mother, utter horror and fear masking her young face.

_The pain you feel is real, you're not asleep but it's a nightmare_

_But you can wake up anytime_

_Oh don't lose your passion or the fighter that's inside of you_

_You're the girl I used to be_

_The pissed off complicated thirteen year old me._

"Go!" I rasped, fighting for air, my fingers tearing uselessly at Joe's tight grip. "Get the bag in the hall," I struggled, my lungs screaming for air "Go to Trenton. Find Ranger. He'll..." Little black dots were dancing across my vision now, my breaths shot and raspy. "He'll...take care of you..."

I felt my body going limp as the room began to spin, my mind losing focus as I fought to stay awake. Jenna was still rooted to the spot, her eyes darting around for something, _anything_ to stop Joe killing me. With a phenomenal effort I drew in a last breath, blind and suffocating.

"Go..."I whispered.

With one final desperate look at me Jenna dashed from the room, grabbing the bag I had packed for our escape and her coat, and sprinting out the door. At least she was safe from him.

_Until we meet again_

_Oh I wish you well_

_I wish you well_

_Little girl_

_Until we meet again._

My eyes rolled back into my head as I struggled to stay conscious for one more moment, willing something or someone to save me, holding out, waiting for it to happen.

_I wish you well_

_Little girl_

_I wish you well_

_Until we meet again_

_My little thirteen year old me._

I drew breath for a final time as I felt myself drifting off to the unknown.

So this was what it felt like to die.


	6. Chapter 6

_Jenna_

I ran as fast as I could down the street, my heart pounding as my father's screams of rage rang in my ears. Fear shot through me as I thought I heard someone running behind me and I ran even faster, sprinting past the familiar houses in my street and up to the bus stop. There was already a bus waiting and I jumped in just as the doors closed, nearly catching my bag in them. The Bus driver shot a bored look at me while I handed him the few dollars I found in my pockets. The bus was fairly empty, a few people smattered across the seats. I made my way past a few little old ladies, clutching their shopping bags, a few straggling schoolkids and a group of college students on the way home. I slumped onto the empty three seats at the back and sank low onto them in case Dad was looking for me.

My heart thumped loudly as adrenalin rushed through my system. I started going into shock. I could not stop shivering, my teeth chattering as I hugged my arms to my chest. My mind replayed the scene over and over, as if I was right there experiencing it, watching Dad yelling and Mom screaming, panicking and frightened. Oh God, what was happening to Mom? What if Dad accidentally killed her this time! I would never forgive myself if she was badly injured and I was not there to stitch her up again. But what the hell was I supposed to do? Stay there and wait for him to turn on me?

I was shivering violently now, and feeling very faint as I clung to consciousness. And what could I do now? I had no money, no other family I knew of and nowhere to go. It was dark and I was alone and vulnerable. Panic welled up in my chest and I blinked back tears of fear and uncertainty as the bus rolled into the night, stopping occasionally as people got off.

I awoke some hours later, my eyes puffy and swollen from crying and my head pounding, to the bored bus driver from before gently shaking me.

"Sorry Kid, this is the last stop." He looked concernedly down at me, a frown creasing his brow.

"You got a place to stay tonight? You lost?"

I sniffed, rubbing sleep from my eyes and trying to think straight.

"I'm lost; I think I must have gotten on the wrong bus." I lied quickly, fixing a not entirely untruthful look of fear onto my face. The Driver sighed and looked down at me.

"Come on kid, Yu can stay at the Bus depot tonight. There's a staffroom you can sleep in. There's always a couple of people there to keep you company. We'll put you on the right bus tomorrow. Just relax; it's a forty minute ride back to the CBD. Do your folks know you're ok?"

No, I thought. My Mom had no idea where I was or whether I was safe. For that matter, I didn't know if she was even _alive_. I _had_ to save her from my father.

I nodded distractedly to the driver, swinging my pack onto the seat behind him and slumping onto it as well. The bus moved off and I leaned my forehead against the window, propping my feet up on the seat and hugging my pack to my chest. Rain had begun to fall from the stormy clouds, spattering the windows and turning the lights from the other cars into blurred patches of radiance in the thick darkness. Hopelessness was setting it as we drove on through the outskirts of the city, wending through dark roads and alleys. I had no idea what to do to help Mom, and even if I did think of something, it was probably too late already. I couldn't call the police because they were all friends with Joe and wouldn't take the call seriously, and we had no friends in the neighbourhood. I had never been outside the city and never met any of the relatives I might still have. What was I supposed to do? Give up? There was nothing I could do to save her, and then what would happen to me? An orphaned child? I'd probably be put in some stupid home for kids where they'd try to pawn me off onto some other family, or wind up on the street.

Suddenly, a thought struck me.

The pack! I hadn't been with Mom when she packed it; maybe she left me something, an address, anything to help me save her! I ripped open the zipper and saw it was packed with everything I would need- maps, addresses, a cell phone, contacts. But what caught my attention was a white envelope on top addressed to me. I opened it with trembling fingers, hoping against hope that this would hold the answers I so desperately needed.

"_Darling Girl,_

_I'm sorry for whatever may have happened and that it was bad enough for you to have to run for your life. I'm so, so sorry. But now you must do something for me, please, I beg you it is very important. If my life is in danger, or Joe has attempted to hurt you or you just need a place to stay, find Ranger and tell him you are my daughter. You must fly to Newark Airport, New Jersey and take a cab to Haywood Street in Trenton. His building is there, with "Rangeman" on the plaque outside. Go inside and ask for him, and say to whoever you're speaking to "Delta Charlie Echo". It will stop them delaying you. Explain to him what has happened, and he'll help. _

_Baby girl I have to say goodbye now, please be careful and travel as quickly as you can, as both my life and yours depend on it. I will love you forever, sweetie, never forget that._

_Mom"_

Underneath was a name and contact number for someone at the airport that would be able to get me onto the next flight.

My heart was beating very fast and adrenalin was pumping through my veins as I read the letter again, once, twice, three times. Then the relief hit. There was something I could do! I could save her! She had left me everything I needed and I was going to do this! Hope blossomed in my heart as I realised that just maybe, _maybe_ I might be able to get to her in time. _If_ I worked fast.

"Hey Michael," I said to the bus driver "You wouldn't be able to drop me off at the airport would you? I have an uncle working there I could meet up with." I lied.

"Sure, it's right on the way, we'll be there in five minutes. You sure your uncle will be there now?"

I muttered yes at him, not really concerned. I rifled through the rest of the bag, finding $200 in cash, a cell phone, a map of Trenton with Haywood marked on it, an address book containing the names and contact details of relatives I never knew I had, water and an extra jacket. I smiled sadly. Mom had always been able to think of everything.

0 0 0

"Here you go kid" Michael said as we pulled into LA Airport. "I hope you'll be ok. Give me a call if you need help or something ok?" He handed me a carded with his name address and phone number on it.

"Thanks a lot, you've been wonderful, I really appreciate it."

He smiled back at me. "See ya kid."

I hopped off the bus and headed into the busy airport searching for an information desk. I found one free and hurried over to it.

"Hey there, I'm trying to find..."I looked at the name Mom had given me "Patricia Ross, is she here?" The girl behind then desk smiled at me.

"Sure, she's right there."She pointed to a youngish woman of about thirty with thick red hair, direction the attendant behind one of the check in counters. I quickly thanked the girl and walked over to the other desk.

"Excuse me, are you Patricia Ross?" I asked the redheaded woman. She smiled down at me.

"Yes, what can I do for you?"

"I need your help. My Mom gave me your name to contact in case of an emergency. I need to get to Trenton _now_. Can you help me?"

"Are you Stephanie Plum's child?" I nodded. I had heard Mom mention her maiden name once or twice.

"There's a plane leaving for Trenton in 15 minutes. Let's go."

She grabbed my hand and we sprinted across the Departures area, past the dazed and travel weary people, the shops, the long corridors, the lounges until we reached security. 12 minutes to go.

"You're not carrying anything dangerous in your bag are you?" She asked, puffing as we raced towards security.

"No, it's ok. I promise."

She flashed her Clearance pass and got us straight through security without stopping until we reached the terminals. 10 minutes to go.

"We have to hurry; the plane will be just about to leave the terminal in a few minutes." My heart was beating wildly. What if we didn't make the plane? What if I couldn't get to this man, Ranger, in time? What if the only reason I couldn't save Mom was because I hadn't run fast enough?

I surged forward, as we reached the gate, sprinting past the check in desk and the shocked clerk sitting behind it. I knew that Patricia would talk to them and phone ahead to the plane to let me in. The corridor to the aeroplane seemed to stretch on and on, the door I could see getting smaller and smaller as I ran only faster to reach it in time. But then, I was there, breathing hard as the two flight attendants ushered me into the cabin and locked the door behind me.

"Close one kid, you nearly missed us. Come on, we've got a spare seat in business class, where we can keep an eye on you." said the man, and he showed me to the seat.

I settled back as the cabin crew went through the final checks and settled down for takeoff, relaxing into the comfortable seat. The flight was going to be around six hours, and for now, that was all I could do. I said a quick prayer for Mom as the plane took off, hoping she was still ok, and that I would make it to her in time. And that this Ranger would be able to help us. Because without him, there was nowhere else to turn.

0 0 0

I awoke to the flight attendant gently waking me, to say that it was time to land, and I had to put my seat up. I pressed my nose against the cold glass as we descended towards Newark airport, looking at the tiny lights that fanned across the landscape. Somewhere down there, was the other half of my family whom I had never known. People with lives and friends and kids who I suspected did not even know I existed. It was slightly unnerving. My family. A family I never knew I had was there, waiting for me. I felt a bit safer. Maybe they could look after me when Mom was recovering. If she recovered.

I hurried out of the plane as fast as I could, the male flight attendant (whom I had discovered was Dave) accompanying me. Turns out he was a close friend of Patricia's and could get me through security as quickly as possible so I could get to Trenton. We whisked through the airport and out to the taxi rank where he hailed me a cab.

"I'll be in Newark until late tomorrow afternoon just call the airport and ask for me if you need to fly anywhere ok? I'll be happy to help you out." My eyes watered at his immense kindness. The stress and exhaustion was making me a bit emotional.

"Thanks for everything Dave. I'll call you if I need help. I really appreciate it."

"Good luck sweetie." He said, stepping back from the cab. I waved to him as we accelerated out of the airport and onto the highway, as dawn began to break.

0 0 0

The clouds were just beginning to brighten as we reached Trenton an hour later and I yawned, staring through haggard eyes as the sun gently revealed itself to the world. I had slept most of the ride, only waking when the cab driver announced we had arrived in Trenton. I watched the houses and shops flash past in the early morning light; people already up for the day, walking their dogs and running in the parks, a few even opening businesses.

We pulled into Haywood as more people began to emerge from houses, yawning and clutching cups of coffee and newspapers.

"Here ya're. Haywood Street. The building you're looking for is that one." The driver pointed out a black nondescript building about 20 metres down the road. I thanked him and paid him his money, before getting out of the car and sprinting towards the front doors and flashing through them.

I didn't know how much time Mom had left. This had to be Ranger's building. It just had to be.

I didn't dare think of what might happen if it wasn't.


	7. Chapter 7

_Jenna_

I raced up to the front desk of the building, as the man behind it looked up at me and I froze. He was tall and very muscular, but showed no emotion on his face whatsoever. I had never seen anyone like him. He stared at me with blank eyes, as if there was nobody behind them. Fear pulsed through me. Was I in the right place? Was this the man I had to speak to? I gulped, and pushed my fear aside. Well, there was only one way to find out.

"Excuse me sir," I said in a small voice, transfixed by those blank eyes. "I need to speak to Ranger. My Mom is in danger. She said to say Delta Charlie Echo to whoever was at reception."

Surprise flickered on his face for a moment before it became perfectly smooth again.

"Who's your Mom kid?" He said. His voice was surprisingly friendly and I relaxed a bit.

"Stephanie Plum." I guessed they would probably know her by her maiden name.

The man's eyes widened and he picked up the phone.

"Boss, I think you'll want to see this." He said, still staring at me.

0 0 0

_Hal_

It'd been a slow morning so far. Well, I had hardly expected it to be action packed. I had been stuck on reception because our usual guy couldn't come in and I was bored out of my mind. Since 4 in the freaking morning! I mean jeez, this was even worse than monitor duty! At least there you had someone to complain to! This was I was stuck on my own playing solitaire on the computer for 3 straight hours. I was getting pretty good at it by now.

It was nearly 0700 by now and light outside, and people were just starting to emerge from houses on their way to work, clutching cups of coffee and newspaper. I watched as people hurried past the doors to Rangeman, oblivious to the fact that there was even a building there. Just how Ranger wanted it I guess. I had just won my 23rd game of solitaire when I heard the door open, and looked up to see a small girl hurrying in, the look of fear unmistakeable on her face. She was small, probably only twelve or thirteen, although I was no great judge of age in kids. But there was something familiar about her I couldn't quite put her finger on. Her messy brown hair was pulled up into a loose bun and looked like she had little else but the clothes on her back. So what was she doing here of all places?

"Excuse me sir," her voice was so quiet I could barely hear her. I guess I did look pretty scary to her. "I need to speak to Ranger. My Mom told me to come here if she needed help and she's in danger. She said to say Delta Charlie Echo to whoever was at reception."

I was so surprised by this bold little girl my mouth nearly dropped open. How did she know about Ranger? Who was her Mom and how did she know him? And how on earth did she know our emergency code? This was becoming more puzzling by the second.

"Who's your Mom kid?"

Her eyes stirred something in my memory, she looked exactly like-

"Stephanie Plum."

Oh my God.

Unconsciously I picked up the phone and got Ranger on the line.

"Boss, I think you'll want to see this." I said, staring at Stephanie's child.

0 0 0

_Ranger_

A knock came at my door a minute or two later, just as I was in the middle of some important paperwork I had to get done today. Perfect timing. I sighed, and pushed it aside. I'd have to finish it later, as usual.

"Enter." I said.

Hal walked in and stood in front of my desk.

"Hal. What is it that I want to see."

"Well Boss it's like this... I think... Oh just come on in kid."

A small and frightened looking girl stepped tentatively into the room, staring at her shoelaces.

"She came in just a minute ago and said the emergency code. And she said... she said-"

The girl looked up, her large brown eyes meeting mine. The world slowed down as I stared into her piercing eyes. They looked as though they had seen far more than they should have at her young age. She had the timid, slightly defensive stance of someone who had been scared for a very long time, and had no idea how to stop it. But something about her face, the shape of her jaw, the cut of her cheekbone. It reminded me of someone...

"I'm Stephanie Plum's child."

My mind went blank.

My heart stopped beating.

The memories came flooding back.

I had never gotten over Stephanie when she had left Trenton for Joe. I had always loved her. My last promises to her were that no matter how much time had passed, I would always protect her if she asked. And that I would not look for her when she moved away. It had broken my heart to say that to her, I had no idea how hard it would be to survive without her clumsy antics and terrible sense of humour, the epic stories of her latest skips and the stolen kisses behind the alleyway. I had not realised how much it would kill me without her beautiful smile every day, or the reassurance that she was just a phone call away. I would miss the drama that surrounded her constantly, the stories of her crazy family and the way she would laugh with my team. I would miss the way she looked at me from behind her eyelashes, her sensual curves and beautiful lips. I would miss everything about her until I could bear it no more, and simply pushed it all away to be dealt with another time.

But this girl, this child, was the spitting image of her; right down to the messy hair that was so characteristically Steph's. I stared at her, and wondered what on earth had happened to her to return to Trenton, to me. I would not imagine Stephanie would have told her young daughter about me, especially with Morelli's paranoia that I would steal Steph from him. And for her to be quoting the emergency code.

And then I realised what must have happened. I saw the bandages on the girls' wrists, the bruises that were just healing up her arms.

Morelli. The bruises.

The bandages? Her own.

Anger began to seethe inside me as I fought to remain in control.

"What's happened to Stephanie." I said, my voice audibly strained as I struggled to contain the fierce rage that was blazing inside me. The girl visibly recoiled but held her ground.

"Dad... Dad hurt Mom..." her voice trembled as I saw her eyes replaying the moment in her mind. I stood up. "Really bad. Really bad, it was so bad, there was blood everywhere and I couldn't stop him, I couldn't get to Mom to save her, I couldn't do it!" She began to get hysterical, as in her mind's eye she watched her father doing these terrible things to her mother. "He just kept going and going and she was already badly injured, We need to find her and stop him, We need to save her, _she's dying_!" The girl yelled hysterically, tears pouring down her face as she looked at me desperately for help.

In a second I was around the desk and cradling the sobbing girl in my arms, her face pressed into my shoulder as she let go of all the fear, anger and frustration she had experienced all her life, the anxiety about her mother's life and the heavy responsibility she was handed of saving it. I rocked her gently in my arms as she cried and cried, every terrible memory, every hurt, every pain, every bit of fear poured out of her as she just let go.

"Hal, I need the jet ready in twenty minutes, we're flying out to see if we can get to Steph in time." I said, still holding the girl in one arm as I grabbed the pack that was always sitting ready next to my door and swung it onto my back. I ran out to the control room, careful not to jostle the child in my arms.

"Tank, Bobby, Lester, Let's go! Op pack one, garage _now_. We're flying out in twenty minutes." The control room was immediately silent and focused as Tank, Bobby and Lester walked out of their offices with identical black packs and quickly assessed the situation. I nodded towards the stairs and took them two at a time, with the three men behind me.

"Hey there, can you tell me your name amor?"

"Jenna." Said the girl, her voice weak from crying.

"Where do you live with your Mom and Dad?" Anger ripped through me as I muttered the word _Dad_ but now wasn't the time. Now, it was time to save Steph.

"We live in Vegas, in the suburbs." That was all I needed to know.

I got a call from Hal as the Turbo sped through every red light in Trenton confirming the jet was ready to fly out as soon as we got there, and we were priority 1. Sometimes it helped to have connections with the government.

Jenna was leaning her head against Tank as we pulled straight onto the runway at Newark airport Twenty minutes later, and right up to the jet.

Another five minutes and we were taking off, Jenna having been carried by Tank as the poor girl gave over to her exhaustion and fell asleep. I could only imagine what the last 24 hours had been like.

And hope that we would make it to Steph before it was too late.

0 0 0

Because we were a private jet, it would only take us roughly four hours to reach Vegas, but the waiting was killing me within twenty minutes. I had explained everything to the men within another 5 and for the next hour we played around with ways to handle the situation. From what Jenna had said Steph was hurt very badly even before Morelli had laid his hands on her for the second time, so we could only guess that she would be in a critical condition right now.

Sometime later Jenna woke again, her eyes puffy and red from crying, hugging her knees to her chest. I sat back in my chair and watched as she stared with blank eyes out the window, gently fingering the bandages that covered her right arm. The emptiness inside her, her mood swings, the bandages. They were all signs of something much more terrible raging inside her.

I nudged Bobby, who was checking over his kit, and nodded to Jenna.

"You can see what's wrong with her as well as I can. You reckon it's worth having a talk?" He shrugged. I knew at this stage one talk would not solve much, but especially with what was happening at the moment, I did not want her to be tempted to commit suicide because of the terrible feelings inside of her. She had not come this far to give up now.

Bobby was the medic of our team and also a trained psychiatrist. I had seen him deal with depression and self harm before and I trusted that he knew what to do. I watched them talk for a while, her still staring blankly out the window, uncommunicative and withdrawn; and Bobby gently coaxing the answers out of her, trying to get her to trust him. I watched as she slowly opened up more and more to him, responding more readily to his questions and seeing her even smile weakly a few times. She hugged Bobby as the conversation seemed to wind down and she turned back to the window, a little happier than before, but still with that underlying grief just beyond the surface. Bobby watched her for a moment and then came back to sit with me.

"Classic symptoms. Self harm, disturbed sleeping, change in eating, feeling of sadness all the time." He looked over at the little girl crouched in the seat and sighed. "They just seem to be getting younger and younger, " He said sadly. "But I'm confident she's not endangering her life at the moment, although she's by no means ok. We need to stay with her all the time to make sure she doesn't hurt herself again. If it comes to it after all this she may have to be hospitalised. She's got a very severe case of depression and it's not going to go away quickly."

I nodded, and laid my head back on the rest as we sped towards Vegas.

Towards Stephanie.

She had called.

And I was coming.


	8. Chapter 8

_Ranger_

It looked just like any other house on the street, a small white bungalow with a blue trim, wraparound porch and a swing set out the front. A slightly beat up Civic was parked in the driveway, a child's bike propped up against the garage door in front of it, abandoned in the wake of the smell of baking cookies and the promise of a kiss from Mum.

The irony was incredible. Probably not that last bit in this case. More like the child was rushing home to see if her mother had survived the day. Filled with cold dread that she would open the door to her mother sprawled on the floor, the life pouring out of the wounds on her body. I forced the images out of my mind. Now was not the time to think of that. Now was the time to find Steph and get her out of danger. I took a moment to compose myself, and a steely determination passed through me.

"Tank and Hal take the back, Bobby with me, from the front. We'll radio the countdown. Be as quiet as possible, we don't want to startle Morelli. There's a chance he could be expecting someone, and we don't want to put Steph in any more danger. Go and get in place, I'll be out in a minute." They all nodded and collectively left the vehicle, their faces set and hard. This op meant something different to all of them. They were all close to Steph in their own ways, and I knew that they had missed her nearly as much as I had. They were preparing themselves for what lay beyond the innocent walls of the house. For the anger, the pain and the misery. But in each of us was a small bud of hope. That she would still be alive. That her heart was still beating. That we could save her.

I turned to face the little girl cowering in the backseat, her pale face throwing the deep purple shadows under her eyes into sharp relief.

"Jenna, it could get pretty ugly in there. But I need you to promise me something. Under no circumstance, not matter what you hear, no matter what you see will you get out of this truck. Your dad's in there with your Mum, and the best thing for her would be if you let us do our job without worrying about you. I'll leave you a radio so we can tell you when it's safe for you to come in if you want to. You don't have to at all, only if you want to see your Mum. If all goes well, this should be over in a couple of minutes. There's an EMT truck around the corner from here, and your job will be to call it to come when I tell you to ok? Can you do that for me?"

She nodded, a familiar determined look crossing her face. Her tiny frame was dwarfed by the truck and she looked so small and ill that I wished I could just take her away from this pain. I sighed, and prepared to leave.

"I'll lock the truck from the outside. You'll still be able to get out, but no one will be able to get in. Stay in contact, and remember to be strong for your Mum. She needs you right now."

"Go." She said in a hoarse voice, her eyes that had seen too much piercing my own.

And then I was out of the truck, feet pounding the ground, closing the distance between myself and Stephanie.

I'm coming to get you Babe, I thought. Just hold on a second longer.

I spoke into my radio, "Go."

And pushed the door open, striding into the dark house.

0 0 0

Gun in hand; I walked up the black hallway, taking in everything. The shadows seemed menacing and deceptively sedate as I passed the coats and shoes lined against the wall. I felt Bobby padding behind me as I walked up the hall silently. I listened for a moment, and heard barely discernable breathing in the upcoming room. I motioned this to Bobby and he nodded, moving forward to cover my entrance. His eyes flashed to mine in the darkness as we both listened hard.

And I stepped forward, into the room.

I felt my heart stop. My breathing stopped. I was unable to move, frozen to the spot. The room was covered in blood. It had stained the couches, the pillows, the carpet; it was smeared in hand prints on the walls and door. It covered the glass fragments scattered across the floor as if someone had been dragged across them. The coppery smell was overpowering in the small space, and my head span as I took it in. Then, I saw two figures on the floor. One sitting limply, leaning against the couch. The other lying dead weight across the lap of the first. Suspicious stains covered the clothes of the figure lying down, who was clearly female.

_Stephanie!_

At that moment, my mind went blank. All the army training, all my common sense, all my logic; vanished. I started like a blind man towards them, throwing my gun to the side as I moved faster, forgetting everything but the simple desire to reach her. My footsteps had become louder as I stumbled toward them, and I heard the whispered warnings of someone else calling to me. But I ignored them. Nothing mattered. Nothing. Nothing, if she was dead.

As if in slow motion I saw the sitting figure start awake, and instinctively raise a bloody knife in its hand.

It didn't matter.

The drunken white eyes shone out like a madman from the darkness.

It didn't matter.

The raspy warning from the figure as it growled.

It didn't matter.

Nothing mattered, but her.

I was a foot away and I could smell the alcohol on the male. I could smell the blood. I could smell the insanity.

Something brushed my shoulder, and I vaguely registered the man had lunged, the woman falling off his lap. I wondered why he would do that. She might get hurt. He pushed me again and I dimly realised there was something protruding from my shoulder. I gripped it and pulled it out. Hmm. It was a knife. My foggy brain struggled to make some sense. The man was still trying to hit me, like a fly, buzzing annoyingly around my head. It was irritating, so I punched him. He didn't hit me after that. He was lying still on the floor. I was glad.

I could feel myself drifting away. But I had to see her, to know she was ok. Clumsily, I nudged her over. I felt a shallow breath on my hand from her mouth. I relaxed, a small smile gracing my lips. It was ok. It was all ok.

And the blackness enveloped me, inviting me into its numbing depths.

0 0 0

Beep.

Beep.

Unh. Annoying.

Beep.

Beep.

Shut it off. I struggled to find consciousness, so I could turn that irritating noise off.

Slowly, other noises made their way sluggishly to my sleepy brain. Voices, whispers, movement.

The Beeping increased.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Quiet, I just wanted to rest! Just silence! Leave me alone.

I felt my head flop; I made a strangled sound, trying to communicate.

"I'll get the Doctor"

Why? What? Doctor?

The beeping was even faster now.

Beep, beep, beep.

More voices, louder now. Footsteps coming closer.

"He's getting stress. We need to calm him. Nurse, push another quarter of sedative."

Then the voices faded again. The anger dissipated. I felt relaxed, as if I was floating. Floating away into nothingness.

0 0 0

_Tank_

I was worried. I never worried. I was confused about how to feel this way, about how to function. Ranger was not waking up. He should have been awake by now, what was wrong?

I sipped at the disgusting hospital coffee, so strong it was almost melting my teeth.

He had been tossing and turning for the better part of an hour until the doctor had given him more sedative. Mumbling names, places, things. Stephanie, Bobby, Lester, Me, places we'd been to on missions together. Over and over, always accompanied by restlessness. He had been stabbed several times by Morelli, one wound coming dangerously close of his heart.

Bombshell was doing no better either. Her injuries were critical, and she had had to be resuscitated four times in the first 48 hours. Her breathing was dangerously shallow, and every time I looked at her pale, bruised face, a fresh wave of hollowness swept over me. We never left them. We operated like ghosts, sitting beside them day and night. But nobody was home.

We numbed the pain. We ate and drank and slept when we needed to. Time was of no object, except to count the hours until the next marker for Ranger and Bombshell. Every twelve hours they survived was good news. We watched the clocks tick slowly on, agonising as the hands completed each revolution. Every hour they lived was good. Every day that passed, even better.

But the time had come and gone for them to wake.

I was worried.


	9. Chapter 9

_Stephanie_

It was as if I was awaking from a sleep that had lasted years. As I struggled toward consciousness, an unfamiliar exercise for my brain, I felt as if time had progressed far beyond the point where I had left it. I wondered how long I had been... unconscious for. Was this just a bad dream? I tried to remember yesterday. Blank. Random memories flashed before my eyes.

My body felt... heavy. I tried to lift my arms, but my muscles failed. I couldn't see or hear anything. I began to panic, trying to move, to scream, anything!

I bolted upright, gasping, and hit something very hard.

"Oww!" I yelped. Then I realised My leg was hurting. And my chest. And my arm. In fact just about my whole body hurt.

"Oww!!!" I yelped, louder. "Owwww!! Shit! Ow!" I heard a chuckle beside me, and saw Ranger, bandaged, in need of a good shave and a decent meal sitting next to me.

I felt my throat constrict, and I was immediately flooded with emotion. He kept his promise! After 14 years, he kept his promise! A look of wonderment passed over my face and I began to laugh with joy. He smiled broadly as tears began to pour down my face.

"Ranger! You came! You came! Did Jenna find you? Did you get Morelli? Is everything ok?—" he grinned again at my flood of questions, and gingerly stood up, and leant against my bed.

"Amor," he said, placing one finger gently on my lips "Shh. Everything is fine. Yes, Jenna found me. She's fine, unharmed, she's just gone for dinner with Bobby. Morelli is in police custody awaiting trial. You're in a private hospital 2 hours from Trenton. My brother is the Head of Emergency and Chief here, and he's one of the highest ranked surgeons in the world. If there was anywhere in the world I would bring you if you were as injured as you were, this would be it. You've been sedated or unconscious for a week."

I was speechless, trying to take in everything he said, and revelling in the sound of his voice. Not a day had gone by when I had not imagined him speaking to me; replaying memories like well used video tapes until they became so distorted I could not determine what was real and what was not. I just sat there for a while, staring into his eyes, traversing the beautiful planes of his face, feeling my heart skip when I saw a half smile crease his lips.

"It's been so long..." I said, my voice hoarse from many hours of disuse.

He looked at me sadly and nodded, and I suddenly knew that every moment we had been apart had been as painful for him as it had for me. And then I was sobbing in his arms, my face tucked into the crook of his neck as he cradled me, gently stroking my hair and whispering into my ear.

"Stop your tears mi Amor. It is all ok now. You're safe. We are together. That is all that matters." And he tilted my tear streaked face towards his, and as I stared into the depths of his dark brown eyes, our lips met in the sweetest of kisses. He was right.

Nothing else mattered but this.

Now.

Us.

0 0 0

_Ranger_

A soft breeze played across my face as the waning sun cast orange and pink rays across the perfectly blue ocean in front of me. I stared out to its expanse, the eternity I could always count on. Waves washed gently against the shore as my feet sank slightly into the wet sand as I walked. The sensation of sand between was so familiar to me now and I treasured it, because of it reminded me of her.

We had spent so many special hours on this beach since we moved here with Jenna, walking as the sun rose and set, swimming in the heat of the day and resting in the lazy afternoons. It had been like a dream of indescribable happiness, surreal and perfect. Our souls were so alike yet so different that we fitted perfectly together in every way. We were in tune with each other's very spirit. The last rays of the setting sun sent the clouds into an ecstasy of pinks and oranges which splashed across the sky, as though an artist had stroked every shade over the beautiful horizon. The wind rustled past my wet feet and rolled jeans, causing the silk shirt to flicker insubstantially against my skin. A soft wave washed over my feet as I walked still further, leaving the house behind in the distance. I had no concern for the past or future, only enjoying the perfection of the present. The edges of my shirt were still playing loosely in the wind, pulled free from where it had been previously tucked. I stared out across the expanse of flawless sand, wondering how she made everything and everywhere so perfect.

I sensed her, before I saw her.

She was walking slowly to me from the direction I was heading, a soft white cotton sundress just brushing her thighs as she smiled at me, her tanned face breaking into an expression of utter bliss and love.

Love.

It had become such an integral part of my life now I was still not sure how I had ever lived without it. She made me whole, healed my cracked and broken soul and lifted me from my darkest days…

"…You are my sun, my moon, the sunshine on my skin. You are my everything and you will have my heart forever Stephanie."

Her eyes shone with tears as bright as the pearls which circled her hair, holding the cascade of curls from escaping into the wind. She was radiant, as I knew she would be. She was perfect. Her smile lit the entire world as she looked back at me, her eyes filled with our perfect love. She was wearing a simple white dress, no petticoats or lace in sight. Simple white fabric cupped her perfect breasts in an elegant V, a slightly gathered skirt flowing out from the black pearls sewn at intervals just under her breasts. It was an early evening similar to only one other. The night when I had proposed. Except this time, as the sun lay low in the sky, we were surrounded by family and friends, as we declared our love for each other.

"Carlos…" her eyes were bright as the sun glimmering off the sea, her eyes full of tears although her voice never wavered. "You are the most special person in my life. You do what no one has ever done for me before. You've allowed me to fly. You've accepted me for who I am, and I love you so much for that. The memories of time we shared together are treasured, but even more so is the thought of future memories with you."

She paused, never breaking eye contact with me. The look was so intense, communicated so much between us it was as if nobody else was with us.

"And I love you."

I felt my mouth curve into a beautiful smile of true happiness as I heard the Vicar murmur "Stephanie Michelle Plum, do you willing take Ricardo Carlos Manoso to be your lawfully wedded husband?" The most exquisite smile curved her lips, the sweetest of happiness evident in her eyes.

"I do." She murmured quietly.

"And do you, Ricardo Carlos Manoso take Stephanie Michelle Plum to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Time seemed to slow as we preserved that perfect moment. The wind played across my face again, the sunlight hitting the water so we were illuminated against the horizon, the burning glow of the evening sun surrounding us like a halo. Her blue eyes stood out to me, warmth, love and tenderness all shown in her expressive features. Two sparkling sapphires shone out of her perfect face. I was in heaven.

"I do." I murmured back. I barely heard the Vicars reply of "You may now kiss the bride". Stephanie and I had already reached for each other, the strangest but most wonderful experience flowing through my veins as our lips touched. My eyes drifted shut as her lips caressed mine, her hand at the base of my neck, body pulled close to mine. It was the sweetest thing I had ever felt, liquid fire flowing through me as we touched each other. Her lips were softer and fuller than I had ever noticed, the thrill of pleasure of what she made me feel made so much more special at that moment. We lingered as our lips danced the rhumba, twisting and probing more gently and sensually than I had ever felt. As we broke apart, our foreheads met and she leaned her head against mine, her face so close I could almost touch it. There we stood, silhouetted against the ocean, the sun's golden rays like a halo around us as we stood there for eternity. And beyond.

THE END

0 0 0

Hi all, I hoped you all enjoyed the story—by the number of requests for updates and reviews I've been getting I'd say you have! Just to clear up something, it wasn't Frank who was abusive. I like Frank. Best idea would be to go and read that chapter again, and it will all be straightened out.

Thank you's:

To everyone who read this, thank you—you're what keeps me doing this! To everyone who reviewed a SPECIAL THANKS, reviews really mean a lot to me, and I generally judge the success of a story by the number of reviews it gets. Special thanks to burggirl, deborahj, Lee Anne, Babecakelvr especially for PMing me, reviewing all the time and just being fantastically supportive.

So that's it for this story, please review and PM me—I always love hearing from you all, and I like to reply generally so try not to leave anonymous reviews and I'll get back to you!

Thanks to everyone and happy FFing!

Schaefy


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